Serendipity
by VellichorNovelist
Summary: He was lost, broken and betrayed. She was kind and gentle: a healer. He had been looking for a place to hide, but found something so much better. Perhaps it was the Old Religion's way of apologising. Rated T for violence and trauma.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello! HELLO! HELLOO. :) Welcome to my story, please grab a seat and sit down. There's lemonade in the fridge and please don't steal all the popcorn! I'm sure there's enough to go around. -glares pointedly-

Anyway, this is a Hunith/Balinor fic. There will be no smut, or anything like that, but there will be violence and psychological suffering. (Self blame, nightmares, self hate..) It's set a few years after Ygraine's death and the start of the Purge.

There will be happy parts too. Hopefully... -cringes-  
Enjoy! :)

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own BBC Merlin or any of the characters/ places mentioned here. All rights belong to the BBC and whoever else created it.

* * *

As Balinor tore blindly through the forest, he was faintly aware of screaming. The noise was all around him: piercing through his daze as he tried to forget the events which had happened-

He choked back a sob and narrowly missed a tree.

-the shrieks he had heard, the stink of the smoke and burning flesh. His family and friends being tortured to death, the crying of the dragons as they could do nothing but watch and Kilgharrah being led away to a fate worse than death. After that there had been Uther: gloating and jeering at him through the cell bars. What had happened to the man he had known? Balinor didn't want to know. And then Gaius, with a firm grip and empty promises. A key to help him escape, a blessing of good fortune and a command to _run, Balinor._ And he, in his stupor, had nodded wordlessly and done as he had been told to.

What a pathetic excuse for a Dragonlord, a little voice sniggered.

Kilgharrah would never forgive him, the young man thought. Kilgharrah, who had stood by Balinor's side and had taught him everything he knew, had been betrayed by his own Dragonlord. Balinor stumbled, and felt bile rise up in his throat. He should've done something to save the dragon.

In his chest there was a foreign emptiness where his heart should have been. It ate at him, tore at him and every breath was harder than the last.

Vaguely he wondered if he was going to be sick, but there was no time to rest. The monsters were behind him. Catching up with him, even, and he wasn't sure what was keeping him from giving himself up. Perhaps Uther, or the agony that would surely await him.

But Balinor would not let his kin perish for nothing. With that thought in mind, he changed direction towards the Lake of Avalon. At least, he hoped it was the right direction. He doubted even the bloodcloaks would look for him thered. Yet he had a sneaking suspicion that Uther would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Balinor slipped and tripped over a tree root, crying out as he collapsed onto the ground. He had to get up. He had to. Had to.

His clothes were ripped and dirty, his hair was tangled with leaves and mud and his body shook and shuddered as waves of emotion and adrenaline battered him. Sweat dripped from his brow and tears fell from his eyes. His vision grew fuzzy as he lay there in a crumpled heap, panting and gasping for air. Balinor heard the hooves of horses thudding against the ground and his hope faded. He was going to die. The notion was strangely comforting, as he sighed in acceptance of his fate. Balinor grimaced; watching his burst of enthusiastic determination dissolve into the air.

All around him was screaming. So much screaming. Balinor smiled as the world tilted and he slid into unconsciousness. Tomorrow he would die, and join his kin in Annwn.

If Annwn would accept him.

* * *

" _You are a Dragonlord, sir, of renown skill."_

 _The voice snapped him into focus: there stood King Uther Pendragon, his head held high and his stance demanding the upmost obedience and respect. The king had positioned himself in the centre of the meeting room- he was not one to skulk in the shadows, and Balinor had the sudden urge to hit the man._

 _"I would not say renown, Sire." The young Dragonlord replied, not wanting any compliments from this kin_ g _. He frowned- where had this hatred come from? He and Uther were good friends._

 _But instead of the teasing insult he expected, Uther laughed and Balinor watched with horror as his friend drew a long knife and stabbed him. He let out a scream of pain as white agony and betrayal rushed through him. All of a sudden the young man's voice twisted and warped into a roar of a dragon he knew all too well._

 _Kilgharrah._

 _His mind was sluggish and slow, he could not_ _comprehend why that name bought such chills up his spine. He could only watch, in agony, as Uther turned and strode purposefully away. Balinor was alone. Always alone._

 _Yet it was not so: he turned and saw, to his relief, Alfred staring at him with blank, emotionless eyes that had once been so full of light._

 _"Alfred-" Balinor wheezed. "H-help me, old friend."_

 _But the fellow Dragonlord only smiled and whispered:_

 _"Help you? Like you helped us?"_

 _He watched as his friend gestured to the skin on his face, blackened and ruined by fire. It had not been there a second ago, Balinor thought, and wept as the Dragonlord before him collapsed into a pile of ashes._

 _Alone. Always alone. He screamed again. To the sky, the world, the Goddess and collapsed onto the wooden floor… Which vanished, and he fell, tumbling, into a river of blood. What was happening?  
_ _Balinor closed his eyes and found himself being dragged under the surface by the thick, sticky, reeking liquid. As he fell through the stuff, a thousand hands grabbed at his clothing, his hair and whispered as one:_ what have you done, O Dragonlord?

He awoke with a cry, and his eyes flew open.

Darkness stared back at him.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Annwn_ \- In Arthurian Mythology it's the Druidic version of Heaven or paradise, ruled by Gwyn ap Nudd who is also associated with the Wild Hunt. Source: Wiki

If you have the time, please drop a review! Praise, concrit and flames are accepted. :)  
Thank you.  
 **TBC**

-VellichorNovelist


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hello, everybody! :D I am so, so sorry for the lateness of this update- honestly, time just flew by and then writer's block pounced, and then school decided to restart. But it's okay, because eventually I caught the writing bug again and voila!

And also THANK YOU, YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, favourited, followed and so much as read the first chapter. :) It made me so happy to see, and if I could I'd just repeat 'thank you' over and over until my fingers fell off. So, you lovely, beautiful people deserve so much more than anything I could give you, and that goes to _everyone._

On other news, I've started the book _Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children_. It's absolutely glorious. :D

 **Disclaimer:** see Chapter 1

* * *

Darkness clawed at his vision when he awoke, and instinctively he let out a whisper of " _Leoht_."

The light which was expected to come was nowhere to be found.

"It won't work." A voice to his side spoke, and Balinor quickly turned his head to find it's owner, panicked at who might be with him. _Please not Uther,_ he begged silently. But in the dark he could hardly see anything, and he wondered why there was no light. What if he was in a dungeon again? Balinor's heart skipped a beat, and he had the sudden urge to cry. _No,_ he scolded himself. _You have shed more than enough tears._

Suddenly a light flared- it was certainly not his. Against the darkness it was as bright as the sun, dazzling him and blinding him. It was fire, he realised. Bright, burning, evil, beautiful fire. It stared at him, mocked him, challenging the Dragonlord to face it as it grew with every passing second. Balinor flinched and looked away, fear once again creeping into his heart and he cried out as he braced himself for the agony which his kin had experienced from the flames-

A single candle twinkled innocently, trying in vain to illuminate the gloom.

 _Coward,_ a voice in his head growled _. A Dragonlord- scared of a single flame! You look at it and see your friends and family dying- how pathetic._ Balinor closed his eyes and breathed in _._

He breathed out _._

He looked looked around. He was lying, slumped, in a small cave, with tree roots clutching at the walls and spiders scuttling along the stone ceiling. A clump of scraggly bushes hid the entrance and shards of moonlight so faint they were nearly invisible filtered in.

He glanced around again, and his eyes drifted to the person who had spoken. Although the flickering shadows stole much of the man's features, he looked exhausted and grey rings circled the man's green eyes, and his hazel hair was long and matted. Balinor doubted he looked much better.

"Why not?" The Dragonlord asked, demanding to know the answer to the stranger's statement, even though his heart hammered in his chest and his voice rasped barely above a whisper. "Why won't my magic work?"

"I apologise for the light- or lack of." The man murmured, seeming to turn a deaf ear on Balinor's question. His voice was light and gentle, the exact opposite of his rough appearance. "Knights are patrolling these woods, and any sign of people will immediately be taken as a threat. The candle is the best I can do without us being seen."

Balinor refused look at the candle, instead keeping his gaze fixated on the stranger before him. He did not notice that there was no tallow to keep the flame lit.

"Why won't my magic work?" The Dragonlord repeated, strongly this time, through gritted teeth.

"The effects of the _Drakhorn_ still linger, Balinor-"

"-How do you know my name? How do you know about- about that?" Balinor shuddered as he heard the word, his hand reaching out to find a stone. A weapon was a weapon, after all.

"I can feel it." The stranger replied simply. "The sound of _Drakhorn_ surrounds you, it smothers you. It is a Dragonlord's most potent weakness, and few Dragonlords who have heard it's call ever return with everything intact. Your loss of magic is only temporary, and only a minor grievance compared with some others have faced. You must be incredibly strong."

"Who are you?" Balinor asked warily, not trusting this stranger who knew so much. How did he know so much? Honestly, he was as vague as Kilgharrah-

 _-_ Kilgharrah's _dead_. He died because you weren't strong enough, were too naïve. He's dead, Balinor, they're all dead! Do you remember their _screams_? The smell of their _burning_ _flesh_? The way their bones _cracked_ and _blistered_ under the heat? What about the dragons, as well? Surely you remember them. Remember the horror in their gaze as you commanded them to set themselves alight _\- you!_ The whimpers the hatchlings made as their own mothers turned on them and the way _-_

Balinor's fingers touched a rock- it was large enough to knock a person unconscious if it hit the right place with enough force. His hand tightened it's grip on it and he shook himself, awaiting his captor's answer. _Be quiet_ , he cried in his head. _Please_!

There was a pause as the man hesitated. Finally he spoke:

"My name is Nerian, from Hamweard. I was a healer there, until Uther's knights came and destroyed our town." His words became frigid. "I lost everything to him: my wife, my home, my son…'

Nerian's voice trailed off, his tone tinged with sadness, but Balinor did not feel the sympathy he usually would have, and nodded for Nerian to continue.

"I don't harbour the same hatred for Uther as many sorcerers do. What can I, a simple healer do against an army?" Nerian laughed bitterly. "No, I don't hate Uther. He has been consumed by his fury, and I refuse to follow his path. I am more angry at myself than anyone else- but aren't we all?" He gave Balinor a look.  
"One day the rumours reached me that Uther had found the _Drakhorn_ , the death horn, and I knew his purpose. The _Drakhorn_ had been lost for centuries: not even the High Priestesses knew of it's whereabouts, as the legend goes, so how he found it is beyond me. So I stayed here, and I waited until morning. You, they said, had yet to be killed so I made it my plan to rescue you.  
"Of course by the time I arrived at Camelot you had somehow escaped and were loose in the forest- no, sorry- that came out wrong." Nerian took a breath. "But to continue: I found you just before the knights and carried you here. I then healed your bruises and cuts, and sent you to sleep."

"Prove it." Balinor's harsh tone surprised even himself. Lies and trickery, he scowled as Uther came to his mind. Men hid behind masks of lies and trickery.

"Look at yourself." Nerian urged in exasperation. "Look at the candle."

Balinor grimaced and, slowly, painfully, turned his eyes to the flickering light. A bark of surprise escaped his mouth as he saw it floating cheerily in the air.

"I believe you," Balinor murmured- quickly looking away from the fire. The memories were too raw, too guilt-ridden to see.

"I'm glad," Nerian smiled sincerely. "I promise that I mean you no harm. But, please, how did you escape?"

Balinor spoke in a clipped tone, clearly not comfortable with talking about the subject. "Gaius came after- after.. At dawn, when everyone was still asleep. He gave me a key for the back exit and told me to go to- well, a place where Uther wouldn't look. He told me he was sorry, and he wished me well. So I ran and ran and I don't know how- Gaius said that he'd drugged the guards- but I made it to the forest and then the alarm bells sounded. They were so loud. But I kept running and I heard screaming and hoofbeats and I thought I was going mad. Then I can't remember.." The Dragonlord's voice trailed off. "I owe that man my life-" he whispered brokenly. "I owe you my life as well, it seems."

"Yes, and I hope I will be repayed," the healer teased light-heartedly, chuckling at Balinor's hurried assurance that, yes, of course he would.

The two lapsed into a strange silence- an odd mix of distrust and relief, of insecurity and comfort, and Nerian smiled slightly to himself in the dim light. Here they were, he thought amusedly, two fugitives torn in half and lying in pieces, both of them weary and scared, on the doorstep of the Devil.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _Tallow_ \- Tallow was used for many things, one of them being a cheaper type of candle wax commonly used by peasants, made from animal fat. Source: Wiki

 _Hamweard_ \- In my headcanon, the sorcerer named Nerian comes from here before it was destroyed by Uther in the Great Purge. Literally means 'home' in Old English. Source: (Annoyingly, I lost it. :/)

My headcanon

 _Drakhorn -_ once sounded,the user of the horn has the power to control a Dragonlord. It was originally created to keep the Dragonlords in check incase they were to 'cross into the dark side'. More of it's past will later be revealed.. Maybe.. Entirely created by me (as you can tell by the inventive name :P).

Dun dun dunn... No? Did I cheapen the moment? Anyway. If you'd like, drop a review or favourite/follow if you haven't already. I'd greatly appreciate it! n_n

So, see you next time, and I will try to shorten the gap... -the responsibility! O_o

Is anyone else thinking about what they're going to wear for Halloween? Is anyone else dressing up? :)

Thank you, again, and I hope you've had a fantastic September and that October will be just as brilliant.  
 **TBC**

-VellichorNovelist


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